by: Shanqo

the wrinkles on her faded bed sheets seemed to mimic those on her wry arms
that the balm for lesions could not bury and conceal successfully
her high cheekbones jutted out and greeted all mourners
every corner
silence sounded off its grief
brief sobs theived into dialogues and games of deciding who to blame

mother lay still, shamless

cease the murmurs that birth fantastic rumors of how she contracted It
her protracted pains have punished her tenfold

guilty on all counts of womanhood!
?

dearest daughter,
it may be God's will to punish me so
for sins unforseen ... unforgiven ... unknown to me
it may be His will that my life be pruned and my petals torn apart ...
that I cough floods of bile and blood as he roguely negated my shrieks of “NO”
with his coarse palms clasping my mouth shut
as the remnant of his strange, vile body shredded the little dignity I had ...
it may be God's will that he leave me with lesions of blight that night he left you in me
and It in me
maybe it was God’s will that your pureness balance the scales a little
my soul is jailed and my poise brittle
dearest offspring, may God’s will be kinder on you ...